


Paradigm

by Preble



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preble/pseuds/Preble
Summary: Some feral, repressed part of Takumi reviled the newfound princess and the disaster that seemed to follow in her wake, but forced company on and off the battlefield force him to reconsider antagonizing his traitorous sister.





	1. 1

The unnatural stillness of the woods was unnerving. Save for his own padding footsteps and the hushed whispers of ferns as they parted, the only noises within earshot were the occasional breeze through tree limbs and a distant, low rumble, too far to triangulate.

Maybe he’d wandered too far from the army’s wave of footmen. The second wave’s quick march was long behind him and the young prince found himself decidedly and thoroughly isolated.  
Takumi scowled to himself as he continued north, following the faint rumbles and keeping the sun to his left. These scouts for rogue faceless often turned up empty, but he’d been looking seeking opportunities to prove himself independent and every bit as capable as his siblings, anyway. Between Ryoma’s expectations, Hinoka’s exasperated supervision, and even Azura’s vague hovering – only Sakura, whose dependence upon him was matched only by her own self-doubt, seemed confident in his abilities.

To prove himself capable was proving to be a tall order, between the war, the loss of his family and the new burden of coddling the newly-returned Nohrian princess. Takumi’s nose wrinkled as he remembered the way Hinoka fawned over her, how she reproached him for his just unease, and Corrin’s beseeching attempts at empathy.

_“It seems like you just don’t care to get to know me at all.”_ The indignant jut of her chin was betrayed by the deep furrow in her brow – although she feigned confidence, his refusal wounded.

_“You hit the nail on the head. I know I should trust you, since we’re siblings. But we were raised worlds apart, so we really don’t have much in common after all.”_

And, just like that, she’d roped him into archery training. Precisely what he’d wanted to do with his free time. He kicked at a shrub as he passed, but was hardly placated by the unfeeling bush.

The unmistakable bellow of a faceless brought Takumi back to his senses. Whirling around, he took off in the direction of the sound, running in a low crouch to stay below the cover of shrubs and low lying pine branches. The tree line broke into a clearing, and from his hiding spot he spotted the faceless engaging a lone soldier. Limping and with an arm hanging uselessly at its side, the faceless was fighting a losing battle as the swordsman ducked and weaved past its slowed attacks, cleaving at its remaining limbs and slowing it further.

Takumi squinted to identify the fighter and huffed irritably when bare feet betrayed their identity. _Her highness clearly doesn’t need me or the rest of the family, battlefield or otherwise,_ he thought poisonously and nearly turning heel. Just before he set off the monster gave a deafening howl and swiped with its good claw at unprecedented speed. Beyond the thicket another bellow and the jangling of chains answered – another faceless on its way. Corrin ducked a hair too slowly and was raked across the shoulder, red blooming through mangled armor. Takumi’s stomach rolled as she hit the dirt, Yato clattering to the ground a meter away.

“GET UP!” Takumi roared, flinging Fujin off of his shoulders as he tore into the clearing. Arrows buzzed into his right hand and he leveled one at the injured faceless. He exhaled, drew back, and the arrow found its target within the faceless. It fell like a great tree, growling and taking a number of young saplings down with it.

Just as he leveled the second arrow towards the monster’s neck the snapping of branches announced the arrival of the second faceless, a stronger one. Its athletic gait was quick for its kind and Takumi barely had time to loose the arrow at its kin before wheeling around, cursing as he found himself in the shadow of an arm mid-swing.

A flash of light distracted Takumi as he braced for impact. He blinked hard to clear his vision and nocked a third arrow, drawing the bowstring while white spots erupted in his sight. As they cleared a new snarl joined the cacophony, a great dragon erupting from the ground, sunlight glinting off of its silvered form.

Torso obscured by the metallic beast, Takumi took aim instead at the monster’s legs and buried an arrow in each. The stronger faceless crumpled to its knees and fell forward onto the prongs of the dragon’s antlers. The dragon charged, tossing its head and flinging the speared faceless onto its fallen comrade with a deafening crash.

Pine needles rained as the dust settled. The dragon limped towards the mountain of limbs and Takumi readied another arrow, but the faceless lay unresponsive, defeated.

Takumi finally lowered Fujin and turned to face the dragon. Its horns were dark with faceless gore and its head hung level with its shoulders, right foreleg dragging along the ground.  
He approached it uncertainly, pulse still racing from battle and unfamiliarity keeping his heart rate from going down. The last time he’d seen the dragon was in the aftermath of his mother’s murder and the decimation of the castle town. Then, the beast had raged unbridled through the smoking rubble of the city, thundering toward its adversaries with wings unfurled and an animalistic cry. Now it sank to the ground, wings folded, tail curled and foreleg splayed awkwardly to the side, hardly the fear-inducing monster that nearly killed Azura.

“Corrin?” Takumi racked his memory and prayed he wouldn’t have to employ Azura’s song to get its attention. How did the opening lyrics go, again?

With a low rumble and a flash of light, the dragon dissolved into blue droplets and was replaced by Corrin, curled on her knees and clutching her right side. Fresh blood seeped past her shoulder, staining her sleeve and reaching across her back.

“Corrin!”

Takumi let Fujin fall to the ground and raced to her, pulling the sash free from his waist and winding the wide fabric around his hand. Corrin looked up when he came to kneel at her side, hair plastered with sweat and her complexion sallow. In stark contrast with the dragon she looked so small, so organic, dragonlike only in the eyes and ears.

“Th-thank you,” she panted, teeth gritting as the gash seared. “For coming to help.”

“Forget it.” He tore the belt in half and held one swatch to Corrin’s upper arm, winding the red fabric around her shoulder and pulling it tightly. She blanched and hissed, swaying slightly on her knees. “I know this hurts, but I need to slow the bleeding.”

Corrin nodded, clamping her eyes shut. Takumi frowned deeply as he looped the remainder of his belt into a makeshift sling. Each sharp breath through her teeth made his chest constrict – traitor or otherwise, she didn’t do anything to invoke this upon herself. He slowed his hands as he knotted the ends of the sling together, lightening his touch and keeping an eye on Corrin’s face. Her jaw unclenched as he was finishing, and she took a shaky breath in to steady herself.

She almost smiled, looking up at him through glassy eyes. “Thank you.”

A slight upturn to the frown was all that Takumi could afford. Although the gash wasn’t deep enough to risk severance, it was long, drawing from above the elbow to her to collarbone and Corrin was greying by the second. She needed to see a healer before she went into shock or bled out too much, and they were too exposed in the middle of a field…

“Hold tight for a second,” Takumi instructed, looking around for their dropped weapons and retrieving Yato and Fujin. “Can you stand? We need to get to cover so I can find a healer.”

Corrin nodded. Setting her jaw, she pushed herself upright with her good arm and came to stand with a wobble and a gasp. He pursed his lips, unconvinced of her stability.

“Nope. Come on, brace yourself.”

He cautiously wound his right hand around her waist, minding the sling, and pulled Corrin’s good arm around himself. She let some of her weight fall to Takumi who, feeling her shallow breathing against his ribcage, gripped her tightly and set off for the edge of the clearing. Takumi shortened his stride to match Corrin’s and he marched them to the tree line, each yard feeling like a mile. By the time they reached the underbrush of the woods Takumi was nearly dragging Corrin along, her stride weakening and head lolling onto his shoulder.

At the inner edge of the tree line Takumi found an aged oak tree with plentiful moss at its base. As gingerly as he could, he lay Corrin at the foot of the tree, propping her shoulders up. Her head rolled to her chest, eyes fluttering closed.

Takumi’s felt his mouth run dry. “Stay with me, Corrin,” he pleaded, cupping the sides of her face and holding her head up. When she opened her eyes they were swimming with pain.

“I’m sorry, Takumi.” Her voice wasn’t more than a whisper.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Just stay awake, okay? Can you sit up on your own?”

“I think so.”

Carefully, Takumi lowered his hands. Corrin swallowed hard but kept her head and shoulders against the tree, bracing her feet and hand against its roots to stay upright.

“Good. I’m going back to the trail to find Sakura, I need you to stay awake and to keep your head up. Can you manage?”

She nodded.

“I’ll be back. Sit tight.” Takumi threw a half smile over his shoulder as he took off into the woods. Incomplete thoughts tinged with panic entered and left his consciousness as he ran west, following the sun as he vaulted around boulders and over knotted tree roots towards the main path through the woods.

In what felt like no time the trees began to thin and Takumi met the low chatter of voices and marching steps through the well-worn main road through the woods.  
Heady relief overtook him as the back wave of troops came into view – Kaze led the group, followed closely by Sakura, clutching the arm of Azura, and the faint outline of a Subaki’s pegasus overhead, ever watchful over his liege.

“Sakura, wait up!”

Takumi ignored the stitch in his side as he cleared the distance in long strides. Sakura wheeled around, startled.

“Brother! What are you doing here? I thought you went ahead to scout.” She unlatched from Azura and wound her arms around Takumi’s arm, a habit from childhood that she’d never grown out of. Takumi would never admit how fond he was of the childish gesture, especially not to his closest sibling.

“I did, but Corrin took a bad hit from the faceless and needs help, now. She’ll bleed out before long, we need to hurry.” He squinted at the pale underbelly of the pegasus circling overhead and waved his arms to get Subaki’s attention. With a seamless, athletic dive, Subaki came to land nearby in a gust of wing beats and feathers.

“Lady Sakura, Lord Takumi,” Subaki said with a calm smile and a quick bow. “Something amiss?”

“We need to get to Corrin in a hurry, can you give Sakura a lift? She’s at the base of an old oak tree near a clearing a few minutes’ run east. I can lead you in the right direction and you can take it from there, I assume?”

“Of course, she’ll make excellent time with me.”

Takumi fought the urge to roll his eyes. Subaki’s ego stemmed from excellence, to be sure, but the needless reminding tired quickly.

“But brother, you know I’m no good with pegasus rides…” Sakura whimpered, eyes welling up. Along with large monsters, spiders, snakes, darkness and the unknown, Sakura naturally harbored fears of fast movement and, of course, heights.

“I know, sister. I’ll be right below, and Subaki has everything under control.”

Sakura smiled weakly. “Okay.”

Takumi gave her arm an encouraging squeeze before boosting her up into the saddle in front of Subaki. “I’ll start while you takeoff, the clearing is east of here. Good luck, you two.”

With a final wave Takumi tore back into the forest, smiling to himself as rapid clopping and a high scream signaled Subaki’s takeoff. The pegasus quickly overtook him and Takumi watched their progress until they disappeared over the tree line ahead of him. Although he was sure Subaki would beat him to Corrin without issue, he picked up the pace, feet pounding in the dirt and greenery blurring past him until he finally came to the edge of the clearing, chest heaving and blood hammering in his head.

As he came to the great oak tree he passed the pegasus, tethered to a lower limb and munching on the undergrowth. Subaki and Sakura knelt by Corrin who lay much as Takumi left her, still curled against the tree but breathing deeply and slowly. Both Sakura’s festal and Corrin pulsed with a faint light while Sakura muttered an incantation. In a few moments it was over, the light dissipating as Corrin’s eyes fluttered open.

Takumi was relieved to find no trace of pain in Corrin’s expression, only gratitude and fatigue. “Sakura, Subaki, thank you,” she said, smiling warmly. “How did you find me?”

“Big brother showed us the way, and Subaki offered transport…” Sakura replied darkly, not entirely recovered from the trip. “You were out cold when we found you. The bleeding should be under control now, but your arm might be stiff for a day or so. How are you feeling, big sister?”

“I’m well, thanks to you three.” Corrin looked past the two kneeling at her side to Takumi, who hung by the pegasus. “Takumi, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you. Thank you.”

The beseeching warmth and gratitude wasn’t lost on Takumi, but his head throbbed persistently and he gnashed his teeth around the ache.

“It was nothing.” His response came more sharply than he’d meant. Takumi watched her smile slide off with a pang of regret. The apology never made it past his lips as the throb in his temples crescendoed – he needed to bring an end to the battle so he could return to the Astral Plane and cope with the headache, alone. “I’m going on ahead… Gonna keep scouting.”

He registered the hurt and confusion on Corrin’s face and a quiet “Brother?” from Sakura as he turned heel. Gods help the remaining faceless that slow him now, hopefully taking them down would relieve his pounding headache.

 

* * *

 

Once the army returned to the Astral Plane, Takumi tore into his quarters and sat at the edge of his bed, head throbbing. After a choked glass of water failed to allay the pounding behind his eyes he busied himself with the process of removing and cleaning his armor for distraction. Once his wrist guards, belts, vests and kerchief were off he paused, mouth in a thin line as he pulled one of his gloves off. The steely blue of the royal archery militia was dulled to a rusty maroon, dark with blood. Pain seared through his head and he dropped the glove with a moan, holding his temples, eyes watering.

Something deep within Takumi relished the stains, glad at Corrin’s injury, took delight in the karmic justice behind her pain. It was only just, after the agony imparted when Hinoka sobbed into Mikoto’s robes, Ryoma grew distant and determined, a young Sakura quietly reflected everyone’s sadness and he was left with nobody to run to when ghastly flashes of Sumeragi’s murder woke him in the middle of the night.

The pain in his head roared. It was only just. She was the reason Mikoto fell in the town square that day.

_No._

Takumi tossed his head angrily, ripping off the remaining glove and hefting the basin of water at his bedside table between his knees. Teeth gritted and brow furrowed, he scrubbed furiously at his gloves, working the stains from the palms as the sun began to set.

Task completed, he hung his gloves to dry at the edge of his bed and collapsed onto it, fully clothed. The ache in his temples dissipated as fatigue overcame him and he slept dreamlessly.


	2. Chapter 2

The sunrise in the Astral Plane was unlike anything Corrin had experienced before. Without the dependable ascent and descent of the sun in Nohr the sky barely lightened, a limited range of grey, blue and black. Here, however, the morning sun explored every shade between deep cobalt and fiery orange before returning to an early-morning blue once again.

Corrin would have loved nothing more than to laze on the treehouse porch with a steaming cup of Jakob’s tea to watch the sun’s lazy hike over the horizon. No such luck today, however - three days had elapsed since her arm was healed by Sakura, and all of the stiffness had abated. All that remained of the wound was a faint scar drawing from her elbow to her collar, and Corrin was going to celebrate her health with archery training.

Unfortunately, Takumi operated on an inhumane schedule and insisted that training begin promptly at sunup. When she tried to bargain for a later hour, his defiant retort was quick and final: _remember what I said about being slowed down? If it’s training you want, it’s going to be under my terms_.

And so, bleary-eyed and bed-headed, Corrin slung an iron bow across her shoulders, traipsed out of the armory and set off for the archery field. Past the ore mines came a hill bearing a solitary peach tree, overlooking the training grounds – from there she saw the silvered hair of her instructor hefting targets to and fro. In the glow of the early morning Takumi looked calmer and more comfortable than she’d ever seen him on the field or at a war meeting, relishing in the familiar toil of arranging targets for practice.

“Hold, Takumi! I’ll give you a hand!” She called with a wave. His placid expression evaporated, replaced by a half-frown and a raised eyebrow.

“I’m done setting up, you might have lent a hand if you were on time.” An emphatic _thump_ of a target lodging into the grass punctuated his accusation.

“Oh.” Corrin clutched the bow to her chest and hobbled down the hill. “I’m sorry, I assumed sunup meant when the sun was actually up.”

“I begin at sunup, but setup begins earlier. If you need the time to nap, you can count me out.”

She looked for a trace of humor and found none, save for the raised eyebrow. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “No jokes here, except for your hairdo.” He ignored her yelp and frantic smoothing of wild tresses, continuing. “Come stand here, feet shoulder width apart, point your left at the target.”

Corrin did as instructed while Takumi circled to stand across from her. He unshouldered Fujin as he did so, holding it at arm’s length.

“Now, hold your bow out, like this – keep the limbs perpendicular to the ground and your wrist flat with the grip.” He reached over to adjust her grip, turning her wrist. “If you twist your hand like that the bowstring is going to cut your arm to ribbon, wristguards or not.”

She swallowed hard. In her stupor she’d forgotten to grab a set of wristguards. The request to pause while she went back to grab some never left her throat and Takumi plowed on.

“Unlock your knees and try not to hyperextend your elbow.” He tapped at each new checkpoint, drawing her attention to the flaws in her posture.

“Better. Grab an arrow, nock it and leave the tip above the sight riser. Before you pull the bowstring, breathe, relax – your shoulders and neck are a mess, you’ll never hit a target with that much tension.” Taps on each shoulder and between her shoulder blades. Corrin took a great breath through her nose, held it, and exhaled through her mouth.

“Now, take the bowstring between your first two fingers and thumb. Pull the arrow below the fletching, using the bigger muscles in your upper arm, not your wrist.” A tap at her tricep began her draw. She tried to mask the tremble of her arm as she fought the weight of the bowstring, squinting through the bow’s sight towards the center of the target.

Desperate to still her shaking arm, Corrin held her breath and winced as she let the arrow loose. It arced low and buried itself in the ground, a meter short of the target. Expecting immediate dismissal for poor aim, she peered nervously over her shoulder at Takumi as he strode forward to inspect the differential.

His verdict came quickly, sharply. “You missed.”

“I can see that,” Corrin retorted before she could think. Regret held her tongue in check before more cheekiness eked out.

He turned to face her, his mouth a stern line. “However,” he continued testily, “it’s center. Try again, but raise your arm to arc it higher.”

Pleased, Corrin employed Takumi’s advice and tried again. With each successive attempt the arrow inched its way closer to the target as the sun crept past the horizon. By the time Corrin finally struck the target her arms ached and the late morning sunlight was beating heavily upon her. The infinitesimal success only spurred Takumi, whose corrections became relentless and unforgiving.

“Come on, Corrin, don’t lock your legs like that – bend your right knee six degrees.” A reminder tap nearly knocked her leg from under her as her muscles strained from maintaining the stance. “And your left arm is drooping, raise it three degrees! Didn’t I say to never take your eyes off the target?”

Her brow furrowed deeply as she tried to correct herself. “I’m doing my best! Just give me a moment to concentrate – _ow!_ ”

With her attention divided between her crumbling posture and Takumi’s directions she hadn’t registered the bowstring slipping through her fingers. Corrin bit the insides of her cheek as the metal winding rasped against the length of her inner arm and snapped over the muscles in her palm. The bow fell to the grass and she gasped more in in surprise than pain, clutching her arm to her chest as blood beaded across her hand.

Takumi’s voice barked behind her, impatience gone. “What happened?”

“Sorry! My hand slipped.” Corrin winced as she opened her palm, air searing the cut. “Damn, I’m bleeding, but it’s not bad…” She trailed off as Takumi pounded to her side.

“Let me see.”

In stark contrast to his march and his commands, Takumi’s touch was exceedingly gentle as he took Corrin by the elbow and wrist, frowning as he examined her palm.

“Nope. You’re done for today.”

“No, really, it’s fine! I’ll just grab a bandage really quickly and we can continue. I can’t stop now that I’m finally starting to make progress -”

A fixed look from the young prince silenced her. Although his mouth remained pursed his eyes were soft with worry.

“No. That’s final.” He released her arm and retrieved the bow from the grass, shouldering it next to his own. Corrin’s crestfallen expression wasn’t lost upon him, though, and he sighed deeply. “Come on, be reasonable – you can’t hit anything with an injury like that. And besides… there’ll be other chances.”

The corners of his from nearly upturned, a gesture Corrin qualified as a face-splitting smile. She grinned, pleased. “Do you mean that, Takumi? Thank you!” A slight breeze scored her palm and she winced, balling her hand at her chest. “I guess I’d better get this bandaged up…”

He nodded as he turned off to pluck arrows from the pockmarked ground around the target. With his back turned, Corrin failed to catch the faint smile playing Takumi’s face as he busied himself with cleanup.  
  


* * *

 

“Psssssst! Hey!”

Corrin’s torso hung precariously over the porch balcony, feet in the air and fingers wound tightly around the railings.

“ _Hey!”_

No notice.

” _Taaa-kuuu-miiiiii.”_

Nothing.

She slumped over the railing, sighing. At this hour, she couldn’t afford to be yelling like a madwoman for fear of waking the camp. But what could he possibly be doing at this hour, circling the amber spring like it were a dangerous opponent? He was too absorbed to notice her hissing from the nearby treehouse balcony.

A smattering of fallen acorns littered the deck, and Corrin scooped a handful against her belly. After a moment of consideration, she lobbed an underhanded toss at the spring to attract his attention. It fell short, and she angrily threw a few more erratic overhanded, missing by wider margins. After a private tantrum, she collected her thoughts, assuming a patronizing imitation of a proper archery stance.

Naturally, the next acorn hit the young prince in the back of the head, who swore loudly as he whipped around. 

“Whozit? Lobbing damned _acorns_ at this hour! _”_

The percussive _pings_ of acorns bouncing along the deck betrayed Corrin as she, horrified, ducked to avoid detection.

His accusation was an anathema. “ _Corrin._ ”

She swallowed hard as she peered over the railing. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to startle you, I promise! Come berate me if you must, just come up here and do it quietly so we don’t wake the whole army!”

The only answer was his padding ascent up the ladder. Corrin steeled herself as he pulled himself up; his countenance was downright mutinous and he wore deep circles beneath his eyelids.

“Gods, Takumi, you look like you haven’t slept in days – what are you doing up at this hour?”

“I needed some air, and the spring is restful.”

For all of the bravado, Corrin was beginning to pick up on discrepant body language habits that gave him away. Although Takumi stood with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit in apparent defiance, his shoulders slumped and his jaw drooped towards his sternum in a deferential way.

The artificial boldness wrenched her. “You can’t sleep, either?”

“… No.”

Corrin leaned against the outer wall and slid to the floor, patting the space next to her. “Come chat for a bit, then. I could do for some air before bedtime, too.”

“I hardly see the point,” Takumi nearly whined, but his eyes softened and he made no move to leave. She gestured to the floor next to her and he sat with an inelegant _whump_.

 “Just humor me. I need a second opinion on something.”

“What?”

“I’ve taken to stargazing when I’m worrying about an upcoming march and can’t seem to nod off. On a cloudless night like this one, I can usually find three or four constellations from out here – I’ve been trying to figure out where the Astral Plane is in relation to Nohr and Hoshido, but the constellations aren’t in the right order. I need to make sure I’m not misidentifying them.”

He raised an eyebrow but leaned back, taking in the expansive night sky. Clusters of stars twinkled in the depths, crisp in the cool evening air.

“There’s the serpent, I see its rattle,” He began, pointing. “And the nymph is next to it, there’s the pan flute. But… Where’s the archer? His belt should be east of the nymph.”

Corrin nodded, impressed. “You’re well-versed in astronomy, I wouldn’t have taken you to be so studious.”

“I know well enough to be offended by that,” he retorted with a scowl. “Yes, it was one of my favorite study topics. I used to go stargazing all the time…” Takumi trailed off and an uncharacteristically sentimental look crossed his features. “You won’t remember this, but you, Sakura and I would sneak out of bed and go stargazing in the palace courtyard at night.”

“You’re right, I don’t remember.” She drew her legs to her chest with a deep sigh.

“I don’t mean to rail on sore subjects.”

She smiled into her kneecaps. “It’s okay, I love hearing these old stories. Even if it’s secondhand, I want to rebuild as many of these lost memories as I can – I want to remember our childhoods together.”

“We’ll build new memories, too.”

She raised her head from her knees, stunned. Takumi realized the gravity of his unprecedented compassion and plowed on in a poor attempt to gloss over it.

“A-anyway… What do you think about the missing archer? If we can’t see him directly next to the nymph, where does that put us?”

Needing little encouragement, Corrin launched into long-deliberated theories about viewing angles skewing the reference points in the belt of the constellation as it related to longitudinal placement. She gestured excitedly to the head of the serpent and its relationship to the nymph, prattling on until a bump against her left shoulder halted her tangent. There she found the young prince, slumped over and head lolling to the side. She froze in her gesture, lowering her arm gently to avoid disruption. Takumi slept on, long eyelashes falling over high cheekbones and his chest rising and falling slowly. With all irritation smoothed from his features he seemed like an entirely new person, no longer the petulant youngest son who defies the long shadow cast by older siblings.

Expectations could be cast off in sleep, at least, and he could settle for himself.

Corrin settled against the wall, lacking the heart to wake him when he looked so peaceful. She smiled to herself, half-formed astronomical theories falling from her consciousness as she let her fatigue catch up to her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who waited so patiently and read thus far! Three chapters coming up - see you there!


	3. Chapter 3

“First wave, we’ll fan out towards the bridges, minding the archers…” Xander’s voice rang at the fringe of Takumi’s attention.

_Read as: glory-mongering mounts leaving slim pickings for the rest of us…_

“The third wave will break into separate teams; healers, keep up towards the second wave, mages flank left towards the generals and armored units…” Corrin gestured across a broad map, carefully drawn using Kaze’s field notes and Yukimura’s miraculous cartographical experience.

_Fine by me, arrows can hardly dent their armor anyway…_

Ryoma strong baritone boomed next. “All other footmen in the second wave, fan out right for coverage and towards the bridges, following the first wave. Any questions?”

Takumi sat back in his chair, arms folded as he surveyed his comrades at the war meeting. Ryoma, Xander and Corrin sat at the head of a great table as they delivered the final plan for tomorrow’s march. Each meeting was longer than the last, increasingly meticulous as the forces thickened and the terrain grew more erratic near the Vallite castle. The three of them, though paragons of strong and wise leaders, were weary beneath the surface. Xander’s posture was unfailingly crisp as he held his head high, but the slope of his brow somber. The fire in Ryoma’s gaze cooled to embers. Corrin leaned heavily upon the table as she gestured across charts and maps, and, when she believed to be unwatched, the optimistic smile that she wore for her comrades evaporated like morning mist.

The meeting adjourned quickly with few questions from the ranks. Everyone knew their role and played to the best of their abilities, wholeheartedly placing their lives on the tacticians’ plans. The weight did not sit lightly upon the three of them.

Takumi lingered in his chair as his fellows dispersed to their nightly customs before bed. Saizo and Kaze departed for their rounds, Kaden’s ears perked as he sought out belly rubs before a nap, Odin monologued theatrically with Elise, and Niles set off in the direction of his favorite haunt – the bathhouse. Some departed in twos, Takumi noted with a raised eyebrow; Selena’s sharp bark was heard berating a nonplussed Subaki, and his own elder brother fell in step with Scarlet on her way out the back.

Chewing on his lower lip, his eyes roved in search of the middle Nohrian princess. For all of the grief he gave his family for mollycoddling her, he couldn’t help but succumb as well; even a charismatic leader needs to be looked after, especially in such trying times.

Silas seemed to have the same idea. Corrin beamed as she was joined by the young Nohrian knight, thanking him as he took an armful of scrolls from her. A hard grimace set Takumi’s jaw as the two ducked out the door into the central quad, chatting animatedly. He was only dimly cognizant of the impropriety as he rose from his chair and followed with long, silent strides.

He skirted the sides of buildings as he trailed the pair, capitalizing on the swatches of darkness between the buildings and remaining unnoticed. Only ending consonants and the occasional bubble of laughter reached Takumi’s ears as they paused outside of the armory, but he didn’t dare edge closer and risk discovery. Rooted against the wall of the nearby mess hall, the absurdity of his position struck him like a sword hilt to the gut.

_What am I doing?_

_What right do_ I _have, following her and her scummy Nohrian friends around like some kind of overbearing father? Just because he got to share her childhood that was taken from us, from me…_

_After all I put her through, what right do I have to begrudge her choice of company? Of friendship?_

An unfamiliar emotion, guilt and regret and something else, gnawed at Takumi’s belly as he slid to the grass along the wall of the mess hall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tuning out Corrin and Silas’ chatter and listening beyond them, past the armory towards the brook, the wind rustling in the peach tree, the cackle of the forge in the smith. Sight eliminated, his other senses sharpened and he indulged in the cool grass beneath his fingertips, the smell of leather and polish from the armory, a chilled breeze erupting in gooseflesh across his forearms.

So absorbed in his distraction, Takumi completely missed the footsteps approaching from the armory.

“Lord Takumi?”

His eyes flew open and met those of the knight as he scrambled to his feet. Even caught by surprise Silas was respectful, brows knit in concern.

“Is something wrong?”

Takumi’s mind blanked. No friendly excuse, explanation or lie came to him – only embarrassment and jealousy.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You’re not unwell, are you…?”

Silas trailed in his examination. An unsettling glare from the prince sent a shiver down his back, and he backpedaled hastily.

“I, uh… was just heading back. Long meeting, best be rested for tomorrow’s march.” He gestured lamely towards his bunk with a sheepish grin.

“Right.” Takumi muscled his face back to neutrality. “We need the best from our first wave tomorrow, take care of yourself.”

A knot in Silas’ brow relaxed and his next smile reached his eyes. “Knowing that we have unflappable support close by should be enough to get us by. Good night, Lord Takumi.”

Takumi watched his swirl of grey-blue hair meander towards the Nohrian side of camp, arms crossed. Unwilling to be left alone with his discomfiture, he padded to the armory and hefted the door open.

The groan of the heavy wooden door straining its hinges startled Corrin, who squeaked as she dropped an armful of bows to the ground in surprise. She cursed, cringing at the sharp clang of steel against the stone floor.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Takumi met her in quick strides, stooping to retrieve the fallen weaponry. “Hold on, where do you think you were going with these bows? Your hand hasn’t healed yet.”

“I know, don’t worry – it’s too dark to practice anyway.” She grunted as she hefted an armload of bows onto a workbench. “Just running some inventory and checking the tension. Everything needs to be accounted before tomorrow’s march…”

Even with her back to him, Takumi caught the desperate overtone and heavy slope of her shoulders sagging under responsibility. He reached forward, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“Corrin?”

When she turned, a trademark smile had been restored to her features. “And I’m getting restless, being unable to practice until my hand closes entirely.” She held her palm up for him – although the welt across her palm was much shallower than before, the deepest sections had yet to heal over.

Takumi smirked. “You’ve really gotten into this, haven’t you?”

“I really have! It’s devastatingly hard, but you’re a good teacher.” She let her hand fall to her side with a sigh. “I hope I’m coming along fast enough and not wasting your time.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not.” Corrin’s snort of disbelief made Takumi roll his eyes. “ _Really_. You’re actually very talented. And,” he paused, sobering. “I should apologize. That you’ve gone through this training and hurt yourself at all was to prove your loyalty to Hoshido. Even I can see your dedication, and I hope you can forgive me for doubting you in the first place.”

Corrin was transfigured. She drew herself to her fullest (diminutive) height, shoulders un-slumping and the spark underneath her expression re-igniting.

“Thank you, Takumi. I’m so glad you gave me the chance.” Her radiant smile cooled a degree. “Will you still train with me? Even without the proof-of-loyalty shtick?”

“Of course, I’ll gladly continue as soon as you’re ready. Speaking of,” Takumi paused, rummaging in his pockets. “Here. It’s a salve that might help your hand heal faster.”

He withdrew a small tin of ointment, ornately decorated with a beach glass top. Corrin took it gently, running her fingers across the smooth glass surface and the finely hammered inlay.

“Wow. Thank you,” She exhaled, working the lid free of the tin. “This is great! I’ve been dying to get back to work with you.”

“Me too, Corrin.” Takumi smiled, rolling his sleeves back. “Let’s get these calibrated quickly and get you to bed so you can fix that hand of yours.”

* * *

 

The faint glow of a lantern threw only enough light to recover half of the room from shadow. Takumi paced the perimeter of the light, having relit the light for what felt like the hundredth time that evening as he rolled out of bed. The routine of rising, walking until he found relief or unbeatable exhaustion, had a new edge to it tonight.

Instead of Sumeragi or Mikoto’s lifeless forms barring him from sleep, it was Corrin. This version was unharmed, strong, and the ring of her laughter and snippets of their idle chatter as they worked wound their way through his consciousness. The way her head cocked when she was deep in thought, her ferocity on the field perfectly complementing her drive for peace, the crippling naiveté and insightful wisdom produced by a childhood of captivity. Everything churned through his head, driving him in the same tiring circuit. Each time he passed his door he recited a mantra, willing himself to remain in his room.

_Don’t do it. Don’t leave. Don’t look for her._

Takumi longed for the bitter resentment he used to carry for Corrin. That was predictable, rooted in a tangible event, reliable. Friendship is easy enough too, albeit higher maintenance. Upkeep on friendship requires a lot more emotional vulnerability than he was used to, but he was willing to compromise.

Anything but this. Anything but needing to will himself away from the door, away from his longer circuit around the amber spring. Having to shoo the nagging worry that she might be awake, worrying alone on her balcony.

Having to quash the impulse to climb the ladder, pull her into her arms and hold her until her doubt and uncertainty abates. To stroke her hair and let her know that he’s there for her.

To lean in and plant a kiss on her brow, and see that smile he’d grown dangerously fond of.

 _This_ can’t _be. This is_ wrong _. She’s my_ sister.

A heady high contended with a sickening rolling in his stomach, driving him back to the bed with a groan. Takumi hung his head in his hands and was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu. He barked one humorless laugh to himself.

_Progress from wishing death on her, I guess… But I can’t let this happen._

_What do I do?_

He rolled onto his side and sighed, turning to extinguish the lamp for the hundredth time. As he reached for the lantern, his eyes fell over his writing desk. On it sat an old family portrait, commissioned after Corrin’s kidnapping.  Sakura couldn’t have been more than six, kneeling stiffly in a ceremonial kimono that swallowed her tiny figure. Takumi came next, wrestled into a smart outfit and looking none too thrilled about it, followed by Hinoka and Ryoma, sitting maturely with their backs straight. On their shoulders lay the hands of Mikoto and Sumeragi, proud and joyful save for a nearly indistinguishable sadness in Mikoto’s expression.

_Mother, you always knew exactly what I needed to hear. What I would give for your advice…_

Takumi sat bolt upright.

 _Of course_.

He threw open the drawers of his desk, shaking out every paper and book until he found what he was looking for. Wedged between textbooks at the back of his desk lay an envelope, heavy and closed with a Hoshidan royal seal on the back. The front bore a simple inscription in long script – _my dear Takumi_.


	4. Chapter 4

Archery targets poked their vulnerable bellies out across the wide expanse of a practice field. Five of them, staggered at different depths and heights, were Corrin’s final training adversaries. After weeks of excruciatingly early rises and relentless repetition she’d bargained a late afternoon training session from her tutor.

By now, Corrin could recognize and begin to correct her technical shortcomings. Strengthened triceps and shoulder muscles allowed her to wield a higher-weight steel bow, whose trajectory arced less and alleviated her tendency to aim low (cheaply dismissed as a symptom of her “vertical disadvantage” by Takumi). Her stance was centered, no longer improperly balanced over wobbly knees. Her breathing was even as she drew the first arrow from its quiver, nocking it and aiming for the closest target to her left.

The fletching of the first arrow hardly left her fingertips before she reached for another, trying to decrease time between shots. She went down the line, drawing and aiming as quickly and accurately as she could before loosing the arrows and progressing on. It wasn’t until the fifth arrow announced its impact with a wooden _thunk_ that she stopped to survey the dummies for accuracy.

“Still low,” came the assessment behind her left shoulder. “Look at the fifth.”

Corrin surveyed the damage. Each hit from the second target onward grew progressively less accurate, the final arrow narrowly striking the bottom inch of the target.

“Ugh, my first shots were better than that…” She groaned, gesturing to the right-most target.

“You’re right. Lift the bow – you see here?” Takumi tapped at her left elbow and shoulder. “All of this tension in your left shoulder is translating into hyperextension further down in the elbow. Watch my bow arm as I do it.”

Excitement erupted in her belly as Corrin shouldered her bow. Takumi pedagogy was based heavily in correction and repetition, so she relished in the chance to learn by his example.

Each motion seemed deceptively natural as Takumi unshouldered his bow and took aim at the left target. If their weeks of training together were any indication, every movement from rise of his bow arm through the flickering pull of the bowstring to the crack of a lightning arrow landing dead center was rigorously disciplined. And yet, nothing looked more innate or artful than the quickdraw fire of each arrow in an almost continuous motion. Without the cry of fallen enemies to muddy the afternoon, the flickering of arrows whizzing to meet the targets was even beautiful.

Takumi lowered his arms, turning to face Corrin. “Well? See the difference in my bow arm?”

“Um.” She flushed, too absorbed in the spectacle of it all to gain technical insight.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Come on, Corrin, pay attention, I’m not just showing off here.”

“You’re _a little_ showing off here.” His irritable huff nearly camouflaged his smirk. “Besides, I’m sure I could hit anything after years of your regimen, wielding Fujin no less.”

“Am I supposed to take that as an insult or a complement? And who’s to say I can’t hit targets with a steel bow?”

Corrin held up her hands in mock surrender. “Peace, I’m just saying that it doesn’t hurt to have an historical, legendary bow backing your obsessive practice habits. I might even be able to strike the broad side of a castle if I had Fujin at my disposal.”

Takumi thoughtfully weighed the yumi in his hands, watching the late afternoon sun glitter across the intricate scrollwork at the grip and bouts.  “Only one way to find out, isn’t there? Give it a shot.”

“Excuse me?” She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “There’s no way, you know as well as I that Fujin only answers to you. Remember when Xander tried using Yato? It turned to lead in his arms, wouldn’t do a thing for him.”

“Not necessarily.”

He circled past and stopped fifteen or twenty yards in front of the right target, motioning for Corrin to follow. Once in place he fell into familiar position, feet shoulder width apart and left foot pointing towards the target. Glancing past his right shoulder to where Corrin had stopped short, Takumi’s trademark half-frown guarded a cautious excitement. “C’mere. I bet it’ll work if we both do it.”

“How?”

“You’ll do the work, I’ll get it started and keep my hands on it the whole time.”

“I don’t know, Takumi…” Corrin argued, though only halfheartedly. Her curiosity warred with an inexplicable nervousness and she remained rooted in the grass. Seeing her reluctance, Takumi softened, opening his stance and beckoning her closer with a head tilt and an encouraging smile.

Pursing her lips, Corrin joined Takumi where indicated. “Bear with me, this is a first for me, too,” he warned. Holding the bow with his left hand on the upper sight riser, he held Fujin at arm’s length and pointed with his right. “Come stand here, and put your left hand on the grip.”

Corrin followed suit with as much nonchalance as she could muster, coming to fit within his stance and grasping the bow’s grip. Although his hand never left the space above hers, Takumi let some of Fujin’s weight fall to Corrin, who marveled at its smooth finish as she supported its frame. The bow dwarfed her considerably, but its balance was impeccable and its smooth wrought metal emitted a reassuring warmth, whether from Takumi’s residual heat or the bow itself she wasn’t sure.

So lost in the pearly intricacies of Fujin’s facets was Corrin that Takumi’s voice behind her left ear shocked nearly enough to drop the bow.

“Now, take a deep breath, focus. And loosen up,” he teased, the smirk evident in his voice even though Corrin couldn’t see it behind her shoulder. “I taught you better than this. What happened to the natural prodigy I trained a few weeks ago?”

Corrin tossed her head with a snort, drawing in a huge breath through her nose and releasing it in a controlled _whoosh_ through her lips. Her shoulders, which she hadn’t realized were hovering somewhere around her ears, rolled back down to rest, loosening her upper arms and relaxing the death grip she put on the weapon. Following her list of mental checkpoints, Corrin set her hips below her shoulders, unlocked her knees and guided her left foot to rest next to Takumi’s to open and stabilize their stance.

Here, however, her checkpoints fell short, allowing her focus to stray from her own technique to their unexpected closeness. Wedged into his natural stance, her head nearly tucked beneath his chin and her left arm rested under the length of his own. The agitation in her belly rocketed to her throat as Takumi brought his right hand around hers, long fingers encasing her own and callused palm searing the flat of her hand. Takumi’s knees bent until he was level with the bow’s sight, close enough that he shrouded Corrine across her fingertips, forearms and shoulders. She felt Takumi join her on the next deep inhale, his chest rising with hers and his breath rushing past her neck before continuing his instruction with a soothing murmur.

“That’s more like it” he encouraged, bringing their hands up to notch level. “Fujin needs concentration, a clear head, confidence.”

Fujin warmed a degree with the breathing exercise, reflecting the wielders’ confidence and building synergy. Corrin beamed, captivated, as the bowstring came to fruition, whirling with shimmering light and connecting the two limbs of Fujin. Soon after came another flicker, this time beginning beneath their fingers and extending into a shining arrow. Takumi guided their hands towards the arrow’s fletching, where Corrin took hold and was surprised to meet an effervescent, warm surface. Less tangible than metal but more so than liquid or sunlight, they notched the arrow against the bowstring.

Ever the patient teacher, Takumi let Corrin approximate the angle of the bow and begin to draw the string. Her arm and Fujin protested immediately, unable to draw the string more than a few centimeters back.

“Gods, the tension is higher than I’d imagined,” Her shoulder creaked in protest as she pulled against the bowstring. “It won’t budge.”

“Complaining already, muscles?” he goaded. “Need a breather?”

“ _No_ , thank you.”

Another head toss (making sure to toss the bulk of her overgrown hair into his face) and Corrin was ready to try again. Now Takumi led the motion like an experienced dance partner, guiding her arm through the draw. Both kept careful hold of the arrow as Corrin peered down the sight at the target. She had no precedence for magic arrows and bowstrings, and without reassuring knowledge of arc angles or air resistance of regular arrows she was reduced to gut instinct. They leveled the bow towards the top center. 

“Ready, steady – GO!”

The bowstring cracked like lightning. In the time that Corrin reflexively clamped her eyes against the sound, the arrow had already found its mark, half buried in the target and beginning to fade. She squinted to assess the damage.

“Bullseye!”

Corrin’s face split as she whirled around. “Did you see that?” she whooped, flushing proudly. “Perfect shot! First time!”

“Yeah, I was there, no need to –“ Takumi dismissed with a chuckle before he was cut off in a flurry of movement. Spurred by success, she threw her arms around his neck and enveloped Takumi in a crushing hug that barely kept her toes grounded, laughing all the while.

She might have taken the time to be duly embarrassed by the untoward outburst if it weren’t for his thunderstruck face, caught unawares and blown wide with surprise, his eyebrows shooting to the crown of his head and mouth hanging slack. The earnest openness was enough make Corrin encircle him tighter.

Fujin fell to the grass with a soft “whump” behind them, and just as Corrin opened her mouth to apologize his arms wound around her waist, pulling her to his chest and hoisting her feet from the ground.

“What are you…?” Corrin began, pulling back to see his face. A toothy grin overtook his features and his eyes, so bright to begin with, glinted wickedly as he began to spin them in place. Moccasined toes padded in circles, building momentum and throwing Corrin’s legs in wide arcs as they circled faster and faster. She clung desperately to Takumi’s shoulders and tunic with a yelp, prompting a barking laugh from the prince.

“I won’t drop you,” he chuckled. His arms tightened around her waist, wrist guards clanking at her back and strong fingers curved at her hips. “Promise.”

And Corrin believed him. It was impossible not to, when the world was a whirl of color behind them and the only earthly tether was his protective embrace. Their stormy reunion seemed lightyears behind them as they wheeled around, the prince almost unrecognizable in his glowing expression. A half-grin substituted his trademark scowl, and when Takumi’s eyes met Corrin’s, his honeyed eyes bored into merlot with an unexpected tenderness.

So rapt was his attention upon Corrin that he lost his footing, foot catching in a divot and buckling sideways in squall of limbs and cursewords. A last-second twist allowed Takumi to throw his right elbow beneath them and brace Corrin’s head with the left before crashing to the ground.

Corrin felt Takumi groan beneath her, tightly clamped to his chest, his arm cradling the side of her head. Her equilibrium struggled to right itself as she raised her head, the ground rolling like a ship beneath her. He remained grounded, hair thrown into disarray and covered in dust.

“Takumi!” She cried as she scrambled off of him. He rose with a mumbled swear, rolling his shoulder and wincing. Frowning, she scanned his dirtied form and lingered first upon his shoulder, grass stained and likely sporting a bruise under his tunic, then his face, where a fresh scrape oozed by his right eye.

“Are you okay?” She fretted, reaching forward and cupping the side of his face to inspect the swelling.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he began to dismiss crossly but faltering under Corrin’s touch. Looking up, his irritation thawed under her worried scrutiny. He smiled reassuringly and placed his hand over Corrin’s, trapping her with a fondness that made her chest swell and ache.

 _No, no. This is wrong_. Corrin flushed, pulling to retrieve her hand. “You should go see Sakura, c’mon.”

“Wait. There’s something we need to talk about,” He said, grasping her fingers before she could reclaim them. His jaw set in a hard line and his brow furrowed, but his eyes continued to burn with resolve.

“Yes?” She swallowed hard, drawing little comfort from the contact.

“This… may not be easy to hear,” He began, slowly. “But I have to get it off my chest. I really like you.”

Corrin’s face unwound, relieved. “Oh! That’s great to hear. I mean, you seemed to hate me so much at first –“

Takumi shook his head, reddening. His gaze slid to the grass between them where his hand covered hers. “No. I _like_ you. Like, I love you,” he finished quietly.

A bird in the nearby peach tree was the first to respond. “ _Ti-ri-ti-ri?”_ it sang.

“Huh?” Corrin’s jaw fell slack and cheeks flamed. This _couldn’t_ be.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he peered through his bangs with a sigh. “I never meant for this to happen. You know that, right? Remember how surly I was to you?”

Corrin smiled sadly, withdrawing her hand. She counted herself lucky to past his unrelenting anger. His ire hung in the air like a smog between them for weeks, and she endured hateful glares, then cold indifference, then begrudging tolerance before their training sessions began. Since then his spite gave through to tenuous friendship and now it seemed that Takumi was never too far behind – whether she found herself outnumbered on the battlefield, awash in kitchen duties or stargazing on the treehouse balcony, he was always nearby to lend a bow, a hand or simple companionship.

And she’d loved it. Every minute together, their easy conversation or comfortable silences, were as natural as breathing. But she’d let it go on too far.

And to turn back was going to hurt, like watching a sword come down on an ally and being powerless to stop it. Corrin’s stomach flipped sickeningly, her fists balled in the grass to steady herself.

“I know, Takumi, but… this isn’t…”

He pulled himself to kneel in front of her, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing an envelope. Its paper was heavy and the back fold bore a wax Hoshidan royal seal, already broken. The front read _my dear Takumi_ in elegant, flowing script.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he soothed as he handed the envelope to her. “But before you say anything, you should read this. It’s from queen Mikoto.”

Corrin’s heart skipped a beat. “A letter? From Mother?”

“Yes.” Takumi paused. “It explains the circumstances of your birth. And I realize,” he continued, fervent, “how shameful and out of the blue this is. I’m sorry to have kept this letter from you, I only just recently read it myself.”

Any anger was quickly overcome by sharp regret, stinging at the corners of Corrin’s eyes. What she would give for her mother’s advice, her compassion. She traced the flowing script with her fingertips, no maternal wisdom bursting from the curving characters. With a deep breath, she opened the envelope and removed the heavy parchment within.

Takumi settled in the grass in front of her, watching carefully as she pored through her forgotten history. Corrin was only distantly aware of her facial expressions as she disinterred her mother’s past, Sumeragi’s altruism. The sun crept towards the horizon as she read and re-read the letter, speaking only to ask clarifying questions of Takumi, who waited patiently and answered steadily.

After one final read Corrin replaced the letter within its envelope. She pulled her knees to her chest, wiping unexpected wetness from her eyes.

“Sumeragi did all of this – even died for me – knowing that I was another man’s? Then he truly _was_ my father, whatever my blood.” She curled her arms around her legs and met Takumi’s gaze. Worry clouded his expression, but he smiled faintly at the memory of his father. “But the question remains… Who was my real father?”

“It, um… doesn’t say.”

“Oh.”

Corrin heard more than felt the crushing disappointment in her response. The weight of Sumeragi and Mikoto’s sacrifices compounded with the loss of another familial bloodline burbled in her throat. She tried to clear her throat, smile, assure Takumi that everything was fine and she was glad to know the truth. When her lips parted to deliver the optimistic lie only a choked sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob came forth.

All it took was a featherlight hand on her shoulder and Takumi’s concern to bring Corrin’s strained emotions to the breaking point. Whether it was the shock of losing another family, uncertainty over Takumi’s declaration, or the long-building wartime stress – all of it rushed forth in a torrent, racking her shoulders as the sun touched the horizon on the training field.


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps it was the advancing chill of an early autumn night, or the anxious hum of camp seeping into the very ground; Takumi’s feet slogged slowly, numbed, as he followed the girl he loved away from the armory. His ankles felt like leaden weights, and he lagged paces behind Corrin as they approached the treehouse.

Even in a worst-case scenario, Takumi hadn’t dreamed that professing his love would reduce her to _tears._

Her face, contorted with the failed effort of maintaining a smile as the news of her lineage overwhelmed her, etched itself into his memory and knotted his stomach. Even though she’d long since composed herself, Takumi was running damage control as soon as he snapped out of the initial embarrassed panic, trying to staunch the emotional bleeding. His initial efforts were feeble and awkward – a hesitant, hovering hand on her shoulder, a floundering attempt to clean up the training field alone, a mumbled inquiry as to whether she wanted company or solitude. Before he knew it, Corrin had bucked up, shouldered her bow, and retaken the reigns. After they put the weapons away, she’d informed him, he would join her in the treehouse to further discuss the matter.

The climb up the ladder felt like a march to the gallows. An emotional battle between profound regret, grief and extreme embarrassment resulted in a stalemate, and Takumi’s mind blanked at the top of the stairs. Corrin overtook her lead and was already fussing at her writing desk when Takumi peeked inside and clumsily made to remove his boots, caked in dirt from the training field.

Incredibly, Corrin smiled as she turned from the desk. “Come in, have a seat,” she invited, gesturing to the desk armchair. Takumi complied with a murmured thanks, lacking the resolve to hold too much eye contact as he did so. Instead, he focused on the tin in her hands – he recognized the hammered metal finish and the beach glass top as the borrowed healing salve.

“Sorry if this hurts, but if you’re too stubborn to see a healer…” She chided softly, working the lid off and working a pinch of ointment between her fingers.

“I’ve suffered worse. Listen, Corrin…” He implored to the floor, stomach rolling.

“Mmmm?”

“I’m beyond sorry for dumping all of this on you. Maybe I shouldn’t have been the one to tell you,” he paused, working the nerve to look her in the eyes. They were puffy and red at the edges, but free of the earlier pain. “But being the selfish boor I am, I couldn’t go on pretending to be your brother for the rest of my life… It is shameful, I realize.”

Corrin shook her head. “It’s alright, Takumi. I’m glad you told me.”

An anxious exhale left Takumi, momentarily relieved. Tension immediately shot through the back of his neck as Corrin leaned in to administer the salve, working with a gentle touch as she spread cream over the gash underneath his eye. It wasn’t the sting of the wound but the sudden closeness that caught his breath in his throat. Shame kept him from pondering the ivoried dip of her collarbone, lying at eye level. He prayed that she’d overlook the color he could feel leaking across his cheeks.

“So… does this change anything? About your feeling towards us, I mean.”

She remained fixed upon her work but smiled, a little sadly. “No. In the short time we’ve spent together, I feel I’ve gotten to know you all so well. I care about you. We may not be family, but you are all very precious to me.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you save that.”

 It was half true, anyway. Takumi hung his head, letting the relief overcome him so that it might wash out the edge of rejection. He felt the salve begin to drip down the side of his face; Corrin was a touch liberal in her administration.

“Although…” She mused, tilting his chin back up to wipe the running ointment. “There is one change.”

When his eyes found hers they were impossibly soft. No draconian fury or anguished pain to be found, only a backlit warmth that flooded her cheekbones.

“My feelings for you are no longer forbidden.”

He barely made out his own voice over the kick in his pulse. “What?”

“I love you too, Takumi.”

For an endless second the ground fell away as Takumi staggered through the sudden paradigm shift. With jarring speed neurons fired to compute the change – a love that used to be taboo was not only permitted, but _reciprocated_. The sudden alleviation of his shame in conjunction with heady relief and the enthralling blush across Corrin’s cheeks proved too much for him. All at once Takumi was out of the armchair, lips slanted across Corrin’s and all sensation narrowed to the searing contact.

He savored the torrent of emotions and the softness of her lips for just a moment, drawing back when she halted as though petrified, eyes wide as dinner plates.

Abashed, he drew back quickly. “I can’t believe I just did that. I didn’t mean –”

Takumi was cut off as Corrin covered his mouth with hers. Arms snaked around his neck as she arched against him, drawing herself to full height to reach his mouth. Now it was Takumi’s turn to freeze in the unexpected heat that burned in Corrin’s expression, caught unawares by the confidence in the way her lips moved against his. A private smile played the corners of his mouth as he stumbled to regain his footing. 

Not one to be outdone, he worked the nerve to wind one hand around her hip and to bury the other in her tangle of hair, still mussed from the dirt of the fields. Takumi closed his eyes and dove deep with the next kiss, exploring the shape of her lips, taking in the contour of her shape as she leaned heavily against him. Her mouth was delightfully expressive as she let forth a tiny sigh and nipped at his lower lip.

A sudden crash and the slam of the rear door made Takumi jump as though electrocuted. Corrin wheeled around, eyes wide with and hands flying to cover her reddened mouth. Neither moved a muscle, straining to hear beyond the exit. Though no further crashes came, a woman could be heard whimpering quietly as she quickly scooped together the shattered pieces of a fallen teacup. Barely audible was a second voice, a hissed warning:

_“… Gods as my witness, Felicia, you will be the end of us both if Lady Corrin sees…”_

Abashment and shock warred in Corrin’s expression, flushing down to her collarbone. “Oh no.”

The room quickly felt devoid of oxygen, Takumi’s breath returning shallow and unproductive. Emotional tumult taking its toll, he didn’t have it in him to walk the housekeep through their emotional revelation. Corrin’s blank panic indicated that she was in no state to confront them.

“Let’s… talk outside,” she said, swallowing heavily. “We won’t be interrupted on the porch.”

Desperate for space between himself and his potential social undoing, he followed without complaint through the sliding doors and into the cold evening air. Corrin leaned against the outer wall and slid to the floor with a groan, folding her knees to her chest. Takumi followed, sitting a careful distance away.

“I… don’t want to talk to Felicia and Jacob about it. Not yet.” Corrin stammered.

Unwilling to say anything regretful, Takumi paused and chose his words with great care. “We have to tell someone eventually. That is,” he added a little tersely, “Unless you’d rather pretend this never happened.”

She dropped her knees and turned to fully face him, wounded. “No!” With a tentative hand she cupped the side of his face, still slick with salve. “Of course not. I love you, and cannot go on pretending otherwise.”

“Then shouldn’t we set them straight? If word gets out -”

“It won’t.” She retrieved her hand and smiled to herself. “You heard Jakob, he would sooner resort to homicide than sully my name.”

Takumi grimaced, barely suppressing a shiver as he mentally noted to steer clear of the imposing butler.

“Besides,” she continued, drawing herself back into a ball, shuddering for cold or for dread. “We march on Castle Valla tomorrow. My own trivialities should be the farthest thing from everyone’s mind. I need to be strong. I have to lead.”

He frowned deeply. “A good leader isn’t always strength and diligence incarnate.” He rose and crossed the porch to a woven loveseat where a heavy quilt lay, no doubt residual evidence of nightly stewing. She probably spent most nights fretting alone on the deck, not unlike his own pacing about the amber spring.

“Ryoma, and even Xander… they’re mortal. Even though we’ll never see it, they might have their own shortcomings.” Takumi addressed himself as much as Corrin, hefting the quilt into his arms and returning to her tiny form. She blinked up at him as he draped the quilt about her shoulders and kneeled before her. “And you, like them, are mortal. And you, like them,” he secured the quilt like an imperial cloak about her neck. “Are a talented leader.”

Swallowed entirely by the makeshift garb, she hardly looked the part. Royal armor shrouded from view, her eyes reddened, mouth swollen, Corrin could have been any young village girl enduring the throes of her first love. Carefully, Takumi lifted her chin with a light hand and ghosted her lips with his own. Her lips fell open and her eyes looked black in the deepening night that fell around them. Unfolding from her curled position, she came to kneel and spread her arms like an eagle, holding her makeshift cape aloft and enveloping him in a shrouding embrace.

It was so, so warm. Takumi’s bones softened as he held the young princess, her head tucked snugly beneath his chin.

“And you,” she mused into the side of his neck, “are a shameless flatterer. Kidding!” She added, to answer his indignant snort.

“But mostly, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And not just as a soldier, or as a member of the royal family. Up at the crack of dawn, working incessantly to prove yourself and protect the others… and largely by yourself.” Corrin nuzzled herself further into his collarbone, her lips brushing his neck as she spoke. “You have this remarkable capacity for selflessness, for empathy, when given the chance.” She placed a kiss on his throat, where his pulse raced neared the surface. “I love each of these things, and I love you. And I will _always_ be here for you.”

A constricting tightness settled in Takumi’s throat and he swallowed thickly. He didn’t feel strong.

He felt vulnerable. Hyper-sensitive, overwhelmed. He felt joy and sadness and hunger and relief, dynamic and in greater extremes than he thought possible. The cocktail of sensations left him breathless, each inch of him singing with electricity and _alive_ , passionately and painfully _alive._

All due to the tiny mass of blankets that sat in his lap, who came roaring back into his life and settled comfortably, Takumi’s permission be damned. Whose small face fit just so in Takumi’s palms, eyes overblown and expectant. Whose cold nose grazed past his own as their lips brushed, first cautiously and then urgently. Whose hair tumbled around her face and brushed his forehead as they rolled the to the porch floor, still cocooned together.

Uncaring of the suspicious housekeep or the faint buzz of camp, he relished and explored to his heart’s content. With his hands he memorized the camber of her lower back, traced careful shapes along her arms and ventured along her chest. His mouth surveyed hungrily, tracing the planes of her mouth and skirting the edge of her collarbone, glorifying in the low whines Corrin suppressed at the attention.

Each small revelation was met with approval, and she expressed gratitude readily. Small hands deftly worked over Takumi’s torso, across his shoulders, around his waist. He heard her exhale contentedly as he writhed under her kiss, a growl building in his throat as she busied herself at his neck and earlobes. All the while she moved sinuously against him, unwilling to allow any loss of contact as their limbs tangled within the quilt. 

A thin crescent moon made its slow ascent across the sky, regretfully acknowledged in hushed whispers. Each attempt to part was met with an offhand complaint about the chill outside the confines of the blanket, a drowsy request for five more minutes, or helpful suggested alternative to leaving each other’s company. Eventually the eastern sky conceded from black to a deep blue, and Takumi could stall no longer.

“I’d better go,” he failed to announce with authority. Corrin’s pout, laden with lethargy, weakened his resolve. “ _Really_. I won’t forgive myself if something were to happen because you were sleepwalking on the battlefield today.”

Reminder of the looming fight sobered her up immediately, a cloud crossing her expression and knitting her eyebrows together. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted darkly.

Takumi grabbed ahold of her hands and hoisted her to her feet, replacing the quilt about her shoulders and keep off the chill. “I almost always am,” he gloated with a smirk as he tucked stray fringe behind Corrin’s ear, who swatted at his hand and begrudgingly giggled. “You’re going to be fine.”

“ _We’re_ going to be fine.” She amended, slyly leaving a peck on his cheek before ducking back into the treehouse.

And as Takumi descended the ladder and set off into the dawning camp, he couldn’t fight the feeling that she was right.

* * *

 

 

 _A/N: Phew_. This, this was a slog, starting as a two-page archery exercise and gaining momentum in both directions. To those who read and commented, thank you SO much – this first foray into non-academic writing was _hard,_ and your encouragement and feedback was invaluable. Thank you for reading!

~ Preble

**Author's Note:**

> New to Ao3 and loving the community here, but definitely new to the formatting - let me know if anything is difficult to read. Thanks for reading, more to come!


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